Free Red's Untold Tale by Wendy Toliver Page B

ask your friend Peter to fill in the story for you.”
    I wanted to say, “Oh, I will,” but my throat closed up, barely allowing me to breathe, let alone speak.
    Once Mrs. Roberts returned, she said, “It’s our lucky day!” and held a jug up in the air as triumphantly as a hunter holds a rabbit.
    â€œThank you,” I managed to croak. “How much do I owe you?” Averting my eyes from Violet’s glare, I dug into my pouch. My hands were shaking, so it took me an
excruciatingly long time to gather the coins.
    â€œRed? Your face is ghastly pale. Are you not feeling well?” asked Mrs. Roberts.
    â€œI’ve never been better,” I lied.
    â€œWell. Today, you owe nothing. It’s on the house.” Mrs. Roberts frowned. “Maybe you should go home and rest, dear girl. You really do look like you’re coming down
with something. And please, try to put some meat on those bones of yours.” The way she said the last part made me think of the story of the witch who made a house of candy in the hopes of
snaring children to feast upon.
    â€œNo, really. I have the money. Please, Mrs. Roberts, take it.”
    I held the coins for her, but she shook her head and said, “Red, it’s no secret that your grandmother is…How do I put this delicately? Not very stable right now. Please, accept our
offering. It is our hope that it helps you both in your unfortunate…situation.”
    My eyes flickered over to Violet, whose lips were pursed like she was trying to hold back a huge grin. It felt as if someone had just forced a cupful of salt down my throat. “There is no
‘situation,’ Mrs. Roberts,” I said, finally. “We’re fine. Actually, I was telling Violet when I first arrived that Granny’s baking business is doing very
well.”
    Mrs. Roberts lifted her chin and arched an eyebrow, and she appeared every bit the older version of Violet. “Now, Red. Don’t be disrespectful. Take our gift.”
    I bit back a grimace. Taking the proffered jug, I mumbled, “Thank you,” then turned on my heels. Before dashing into the woods, I placed the coins in a pile on their stoop. I
couldn’t get out of Violet’s house fast enough. Though I knew my mind had to be tricking me, I heard her cruel laughter and felt her searing stare even after I’d slipped well out
of her view.

As I marched down the road, I squeezed the jug with all my might, giving it a punishing death grip. How could Peter have asked the meanest, vilest, most
wretched girl in the village for the first dance at the Forget-Me-Not ball? Had I been only imagining it when he and I’d agreed to go to the swimming hole instead of the stupid, pretentious
ball?
    How could he have
kissed
her?
    I thought he had more sense than that—as well as taste and dignity. I could go on and on about all the reasons Peter should stay away from Violet. I’d never told anybody about the
red-hooded snow-girl in the forest, but I truly believed that Peter and I were on the same page about how Violet and her devoted duo might be fair on the outside, but were rotten on the inside, all
the way to the core. I longed for the comfort my cross necklace brought me at times like this, when I felt so alone.
    But then again, I didn’t feel alone. I couldn’t quite explain it, but I had the strong sensation that someone—or some
thing
—was watching me.
    The sun had started its descent in the west, and a heavy fog had rolled in, blurring the forest into hazy, unfamiliar shapes. Though I fought against it, my mind wandered to the wolves.
    A branch snapped. I stopped in my tracks and pricked up my ears, listening for anything out of the ordinary. My ears filled with the strangest sound of anything I could imagine for a bustling
forest:
silence
. Not even a rodent scuttling, a bat’s wings flapping, or a leaf rustling in the wind. For an eerie moment,